The Me Yet to Come

Good God, it's 2009.

Is it ok to not be ready for 2009 and yet be really happy the last year is finally done?  Two thousand eight was unbelievable for more reasons than I care to blog about right now, and boy did it finish with a bang, but it's finished.  And so are many things in my life that have been around a long time.  Now it's on to "unlearning" as my sister-in-law so aptly put it and learning how to live an even better life.  So much has changed over the last 5 years.  So much.

Here's to a fantastic New Year. 

Too Much

So much has been going on that I have not been able to update like I'd have liked.  The short version is that there has been mucho family drama that has been exacerbated by outside forces.  I am washing my hands of it all.

I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and may our new year be full of promise, joy, love, peace, companionship, friendship, creativity, new adventures, travel, and anything else our hearts desire.

Giving Some Serious Thanks

Thank you. 
Thank you for thinking I'm strong and resilient. 
Thank you for thinking I'm "pretty" now or way back then. 
Thank you for loving me now or way back then. 
Thank you for thinking I look like Catherine Zeta Jones or Anne Hathaway or that I remind you of Chelsea Handler instead of Natalie on Facts of Life, Rosie O'Donnell or Roseanne Barr. 
Thank you for considering me as something other than just a "that crazy Marlene" or a just a pal.
Thank you for being such an amazing friend through thickest, thick and thinner. 
Thank you for keeping me close to your hearts each and every time I get close to a scalpel. 
Thank you for taking care of me when I needed taking care of the most.
Thank you for being my family and my family of choice. 
Thank you for thinking I'm even remotely an inspiration for whatever reason you think I am. 
Thank you for absolutely everything. 

Just when I think I'm going to feel really sorry for myself or get really angry about something in my life, sometimes something reminds me of these things.

Thank you.

Dia de Los Muertos

Check out this month's Birmingham Magazine.  FINALLY someone did a nice long article on Bare Hands Gallery's beautiful celebration every year.

Read it, absorb it, make something, honor someone, and then come have fun with us.  I dare you.

My Ring

I lost it. My so very important ring that reminded me that there is always a me yet to come.  But last night, when I went to fondle it like I have for 4 years, I looked down and it wasn't there.  Since I've lost weight it has been loose, and when it's cold it will fly off very easily but last night it made me so damn sad.  I've always liked the theory that when you lose something like that it's because you no longer need it.  In this matter, however, there will always be a me yet to come, so I ordered a new one in a new size.  And on top of that, I found an artist on Etsy that does smaller rings like mine and ordered one that says "avere fiducia" which translates to "Have Faith". 

I keep thinking about Dr. G asking me "Where is your faith in yourself?" and I'm ready to find some.  I berate myself for my weaknesses and my failures and then today, when telling a co-worker about having had surgery awake AGAIN, this time far more intense, my co-worker and her client just stared at me like an alien and they both said "You are one tough cookie".  It's amazing what kind of torture I can withstand that others seem to not understand at all:  incredibly invasive surgery on rather private parts or on my eyes while wide awake... hearing your skin get cut with scissors, or smelling and feeling your skin get cauterized for about an hour, or feeling the tension of stitches being placed in tendons and then attached to very sensitive skin... yes, I had local anesthesia, but you can still feel cauterization I found out (the mighty hard way) and you can always feel the pressure.  I will never forget getting a vena cava filter implanted over 4 years ago and feeling something snake inside a major artery... feeling the doctor wiggling and jiggling it around trying to snake it up the artery.  I thought I would lose my mind.  Now, that seems strangely silly.  I've heard my eyelids be cut with scissors, I've felt them slice and dice me, filet me and pull me as tight as a drum, and here's the funny thing:

I cried about losing my ring. 

I never shed a tear over the pain last week, though I did cry a bit when I blew a stitch because it reminded me of the misery of January through, oh, about April of this past year.  But losing that ring tugged somewhere that no doctor can poke, stick, cut, burn or remove.  That ring was a shiny reminder that I'm becoming a better me every day, even when it may look like I'm becoming a worse me.  Every day I learn something about myself.  As incredibly superficial as it sounds I'm ready to begin a fashion journey.  I've never explored it because it was never really an option for me.  I think I'm ready to and even though this sounds really stupid, it's a big step for me.  It's actually acknowledging that I have changed... that I am in some way, some how, somewhat ready to embrace that I'm not exactly what I once was:  the girl who so desperately wanted to be noticed but did everything to become invisible, or repulsive, or unattractive.  What we think we want isn't what our scared phsyches want.  I dreamt of being attractive, thinner, etc... and yet am completely unwilling to comprehend and am scared shitless that someone might think that of me. 

Words that I longed for... to hear... to have someone think of me... now, when mentioned leave me dumbfounded.  Thin?  Me?  No.  I'm thinner than I was, but I'm still fat.  Beautiful?  Me?  God no.  I mean I know I look better than I used to, but... Desireable?  Me?  WTF, are you crazy?  I mean, I'm not exactly a leper anymore, but desirable?  Are you on crack?

This is my dialogue, 24/7.  And to think that I am probably at least 25% more mentally grounded and healthy than most women... well, that's just scary. 

So, with my new rings come new journeys.  I'll be dressing differently.  I might look like a hobo one day, or an executive the next, but I have to figure out who I am.  In all ways.  I will always be Lena.  Fundamentally, I haven't changed.  (Or so I've been told by most who know me pretty darn well.  But if I have, please alert me... I like the me I have become thanks to all the shit, good and bad, that I've experienced, but if I've become something unpleasant or bad, by all means, slap it out of me.)  I also know it might be a long journey to figure out who I am... whether it be what my style is, or who I am to become spiritually, or what kind of lover or wife I am to be, what kind of mother, friend, sister, aunt, hairstylist, etc...  This journey will never cease until I cease to breathe. 

And if I am the kind of woman who doesn't cry when her thighs are sliced open and tendons are poked and yanked, but cries over the loss of a ring that she had printed with the word 'The Me Yet To Come", I think I'm ok with that. 

This Lena has had 4 hours of sleep in two days, and considering the journey is a hard one, me thinks I need to sleep.  I love you, my friends, who loved me when I was miserable on the inside, looked miserable on the outside even though a grin was always plastered on my face, but no matter what, always knew she was blessed for having people like you all in my life.  I love you for the fact that you are amazing people and that we all somehow found each other and each of you have made my family of choice so amazing... so incredible... so rich.  I wish I could buy each of you a ring and have it embossed with "I saved Lena's life". 

Because you have.  And I thank you for it.  Now it's my turn to save my own.  And so far, so good.

Dilemna

I'm very sleepy due to Percocet so I am apologizing now for any typos or crazy talk that may happen.

I've had an experience lately that has really boggled me and as usual, I have attempted to dissect it and also see why it has affected me so strongly.  I have been so lucky in my life to have ended up being surrounded by people who want to learn about themselves and improve.  It's a slow process, one that takes a lifetime but I'm so happy that my nearest and dearest are all people that are either in therapy, have been in therapy, read for self-improvement, or are in recovery where they have and always will learn about themselves. 

I met someone recently that is in a rare category for me... not one that I run across very much.  They acknowledge their dysfunction but instead of working on it, they want everyone else to work around it.  It seems to allow for the occasional lack of politeness and basic human skills like saying "Thank You" or acknowledging when someone does something nice for you.  I am quite familiar with the concept of feeling unworthy of things:   gifts, people's kindness, compliments, etc... but I've never come across someone so strangely adamant about being rude when someone is being nice.  I find it to be the strangest response I've ever encountered. 

My feelings are not hurt, there's definitely no love lost, and friendship seems impossible when one can give gifts but not receive them.  It seems a strange combination of lack of self worth and complete selfishness.  I wonder what the Meyers Briggs would say about that combo.  I must admit, it's fascinating.  But only from a distance.  I don't do well with rudeness, no matter where it comes from.  It's an unnecessary response to anything I've done.  I hope eventually they are able to take stock and recognize how limiting that behavior is.  Then again, maybe it's none of my concern and all I need to worry about is bettering myself and being a friend to those who want my friendship and enjoying the wonderful friendships I have.

Yeah.  I think that's what I should do.

I Had No Plan Beyond the Plan

Well, it's official.  Dr. G saw me cry today.  A year and a half.  That's how long I made it.  Not that I am proud or not proud of that.  Just an interesting Lena statistic.  To Lena, anyway.

Today was pretty intense.  He really helped me see today how little faith I have in myself.  It was never really shown to me by the person I needed to learn it from.  It's amazing that no matter what words were said to me, it seems that it was always what was shown to me that mattered.  As they say, saying and doing are two different things.  The doing is the important stuff.  And I was shown the most fucked up way possible. 

I learned to cope in all the wrong ways and was never really given a background of raising my faith and belief in myself.  Today, with his help, Dr. G helped me see that I had completely surpassed any idea I had of how my life was going to be beyond my surgery 4 years ago.  I really never expected to be this size.  I shop in the "mediums" for Christ's sake!  I never imagined a medium.  I imagined that I would always be overweight, just less overweight than I was.  I never expected to weigh what I did in junior high and one time in high school.  I was as prepared as I could be to be "less overweight" but was completely unprepared, no plan devised, for where I am now.  A medium.  I don't get "medium".  And I'm freaking out. 

I had no plan beyond the plan.

When I was asked what weight I would like to stay, I said a number that is about 10-12 pounds less than I am now.  He said "Do you think you can do that?"  And I blankly stared at him and finally uttered "I don't think so."  He looked just as blankly at me and said "Hmmm.  Interesting.  Where's your faith in yourself?"

I told him I "checked it at the door".  When?  I don't know.  It seems that if you challenge me... tell me I can't do something, well damn it, I will prove you wrong.  But doing something for me?  Something I want?  Eh, not so sure I can.  Where is my faith in myself?  Where can I buy some? 

Having undergone this massive life-changing event in front of so many people is really really intense.  And I don't mean cyberspace.  I mean the hundreds of clients who watched it, my friends, my family, people at the gallery, at my hang-outs, etc... I've done this incredibly intense thing in front of everyone and everyone has been so amazing.  I never thought I'd hear people tell me I was their inspiration.  When someone says that to me my head drops.  I almost can't bear to hear it.  Who am I to be someone's inspiration?  Yes, I know I've lost as much weight as two not-so-small human beings and yes, I realize that I was filleted like a fish and have survived to talk about it.  I rationally know this is amazing.

But I have no faith in myself losing 10 pounds.  I have no faith in myself, period. 

Mind boggling, isn't it?

One of my fave quotes is "Perplexity is the beginning of knowledge". 

I aim to know.  I want to have faith in me.  And I don't want to disappoint anyone who thinks I am an inspiration.  Though right now I don't feel I deserve to be anyone's inspiration, hopefully I will one day. 

Sigh

That's all, really.  Just *sigh*.

A Little Melancholia by the Light of the Moon

First, let me say the temperature tonight is astounding, as is the man in the moon.  He's incredibly clear and even when a cloud slinks by, he shines quite brightly.  The Trixie is content to guard the front porch and Spike is definitely not content being trapped inside while the little party goes on outside without him. 

I am content, but just a tiny bit sad... nostalgic and sad.  I had a moment a couple of weeks ago that triggered a really deep feeling for me that I hadn't had in years.  I have a friend that I have a very casual relationship with.  I met him about a year ago and we hit it off instantly.  He's incredibly intelligent, very funny, hot as hell and just a little 'wrong'.  He's tattooed everywhere, is in recovery, has lived quite a life and is always working on being a better person a little bit every day, much like I am.  There is no 'love' here... a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, though we really do enjoy each others company. 

Anyway, he and I went to a movie a couple of weeks ago and as we both settled in to enjoy our feature presentation, I felt his pinkie on the outside of my thigh.  He just sort of brushed my leg with it, and as time went on, his hand moved to my knee and rubbed it sweetly.  It was so lovely, so simple and so, well, loving, really.  I didn't think much of it, other than that it was a very sweet gesture from a friend until I thought about it the next day.

My stomach sank like a stone.  It was so strange.  I realized how long it had been since someone who loved me, wanted me, adored me and was smitten by me had done that.  And how long it has been since someone I was madly in love with has simply put their hand on my knee with deep affection, not just friendship.  The kind of thing where you simply can't NOT touch that person.  God I remember that feeling like it was yesterday but man, it's been a long time.  I've dated, been romanced by, and enjoyed time spent with men, but it's been a looooooong time since I felt that.  I remember the first time I felt it.  I was standing behind an ex and I remember just feeling as if his back was a refrigerator and my  hands were magnets.  They moved there without any thought on my part and he sank into them without any thought either.  Such a simple moment, but had such intense feeling behind it and it's been such a strange feeling having that moment conjured up.  I really had forgotten what that felt like. 

And though it has made me a little melancholy and nostalgic, it has also reminded me how lucky I am to have had that feeling.  Some people will never know what it is to be in love.  I hope to have it again one day, but if I don't, damn, I am glad I know what I am missing.

A Full Moon on the Thirteenth

Were I a superstitious person it would mean that it was just destined to happen on such a terrible day.  I've had a fun but long week and a bit of insomnia (which I tend to have around a full moon... hmmmm) so when I came home from work today I literally left a trail of clothes from the front door to my bed and slid into it and immediately dozed off. 

My phone rang about an hour later and it was my sister.  I almost didn't answer it but something in my gut told me to pick it up.  It turns out, my twelve year old nephew had literally just broken his collarbone, the ambulance was coming to get him and my sister needed help wrangling the two younger siblings of his.  I hauled my ass out of bed and went to St. Vincent's and beat the ambulance there.  They wouldn't let me back until he had been checked into a room and I literally watched him be unloaded, all by himself, and wheeled in. 

I've been a really absent aunt in his life and in the life of his sister and brother.  A mixture of radically different lifestyles and the fact that they live in the same household as my mother keeps me from going over there more often.  I've missed watching them grow up and tonight I missed it.  To the core.  My oldest nephew was on a gurney, strapped down, by himself and my gut churned.  I ached.  He's the most beautiful kid... he's turned out so amazing... and even though we rarely see each other, he actually seems to like me.  I know it's because I'm that 'cool lady that plays video games' but still, a 12 year old boy likes me.  He's not embarrassed by me which most male kids at that age would be.  As the younger two siblings ran wildly in the waiting room on a sugar high I realized that though my nerves are ill-equipped to deal with two wild ones under the age of 5 all at the same time in an emergency, I still knew that were it not in such a weird situation, I would have adored hanging out with these little ones.  My niece is such a girl... so beautiful with these fantastic doe eyes.  And my nephew is absolutely wild, much like his dad, but is the sweetest little soul. 

And then the oldest.  Once I got his meds and headed back to his house, I sat there with my sleeping niece, sleeping and coughing nephew, my sister and my nephew and his very broken collar bone and had the best time.  He's so bright, even under the influence of major pain killers.  He's funny, charming, and absolutely gentle to the core.  I really studied his face tonight and realized how amazingly handsome he already is, but wow, he's going to absolutely knock the girls dead soon. 

I still feel somewhat sick... there's still a churning in my gut tonight, even after having gone out for a bit to see some friends play.  Even with distraction, my gut churns for the time I've lost with him.  I hope I make it up to him.  I think I have with my oldest niece and now I need to work on building a relationship with the three others.  They are wonderful and beautiful and I need to learn and be amazed by them.  I want to know them.